


funfetti is best.

by kaiifayce



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baking, Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 07:17:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaiifayce/pseuds/kaiifayce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has failed to bring Dean pie, yet again. Apparently he thinks that leaving Dean, Castiel, and a box of Pillsbury cake mix is a wise decision. </p><p>(written for deanwinchesterprays.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	funfetti is best.

**Author's Note:**

> this was a prompt from my friend felicia. she's tomolonis on ao3 and deanwinchesterprays on tumblr. we're obviously on crack, because all she said was she wanted dean and cas to make cupcakes, funfetti specifically.

“It’s been _how long_ , Sam, and you _still_ forgot to bring me pie?”

Sam rolls his big, stupid eyes at Dean, who is holding a pie-less bag of groceries. Dean thinks that if Sam wasn’t in charge of closing Hell’s Gates, he would tie the bag around his moose of a brother’s head and let him suffocate. Because, really, who forgets the pie?

“Okay, if you listened instead of whined, you would have gotten the part where I said the convenience store didn’t have any,” Sam snips in that motherly tone he reserves for the sole purpose of pissing Dean off. At least, that is what Dean believes. It never fails to make him want to punch his baby brother.

“He did say that, Dean.”

“Shut up, Cas.”

The angel (or, rather, the slightly diminished version of an angel) rolls his eyes in a manner that is way too close to Sam’s for Dean’s liking. Starting tomorrow, Dean is going to re-wire the Sam out of him. One bitchface is enough; the last thing he ever wants is Cas wearing Bitchface #32.

“So you got boxed cake mix instead? Are you _high_?” Dean continues to sputter, waving around a bright blue box. Sam inhales loudly, eyes turned to the bunker’s ceiling.

“Dean, I have three more books to go through in order to help Kevin decipher the next trial. Take the freakin’ box and go make some goddamn cupcakes or whatever because if you continue to be up my ass I will personally pitch a tent for you there,” Sam finally says in the absolute bitchiest tone Dean has ever heard from a man of Sam’s size. Dean’s mouth is open, ready to snap back at Sour Puss, but he feels something tug on his arm and pull him towards the kitchen quickly. He turns in its grasp to see the tan trenchcoat fluttering softly as Castiel drags him away.

“I do not think getting into an argument with Sam is a wise choice right now, Dean. He’s been up for hours and he’s beginning to get cross,” the angel explains simply. Dean snorts- as if this is the first time Sam has ever gotten especially PMS-y while researching for a case. However, he doesn’t put up a fight, just relaxes into Cas’ soft grip on his arm.

He pretends to ignore the way Cas’ hand eventually encircles Dean’s wrist.

—-

“Funfetti is not a word, Dean.”

“Cas, it’s just for fun. It’s just white cake with sprinkles in it.”

Castiel is frowning down at the bowl of dry mix, pinching a stray clump of it between his fingers as he inspects it. Dean has learned that teaching Cas to cook is extremely entertaining. Cas takes cooking as seriously as he takes hunting; he is ridiculously attentive while Dean explains how to cook pasta or grill burgers. Some things he’s extremely good at, like cutting up things into perfect dices and slices. Others he has had trouble with, like not letting toast burn to charcoal perfection. But he takes his mistakes in stride and Dean notices that look on his face that makes it seem like he’s taking notes on the inside of his skull.

“I don’t understand. If it’s a basic recipe with one extra ingredient, why use a box mix?” Cas questions, finally looking at Dean. Dean shakes his head.

“Baking is not one of my strong points. It’ll be easier to do it when all we have to do is add the liquid. Plus, cake batter is fucking awesome by itself,” Dean explains with a laugh. He cracks an egg into the bowl, careful to do it slowly so Cas can watch.

“I was under the assumption consuming raw egg was not good for humans,” Cas replies. Dean can see a slight upturn in the corners of his lips (not that he’s looking) before Cas focuses on cracking an egg into the bowl as well. He gets a little piece of eggshell in the mix, but Castiel’s face is lighting up at the notion he did something right and Dean doesn’t have the heart to point out his mistake.

“Humans like to do a lot of things that aren’t typically good for us,” Dean says with a deep chuckle, “But it’s too good to pass up.”

Castiel nods, pouring oil into a measuring cup. Dean watches as Cas goes to stir the mix, but the baggy sleeves of his coat keep drifting into the batter. Cas looks like he’s about to smite the coat out of existence if it continues to hinder his baking, so Dean takes the lead on rolling up the sleeves.

And if he happens to let his hands graze over the muscles in Cas’ forearm and biceps a little longer than necessary, well, then he’s just making sure the stupid thing stays put.

Dean lets Cas take the reins on the cupcakes, watching as the angel mixes the batter easily and smoothly. The words ‘adorable’ and ‘domestic’ totally do _not_ pop into Dean’s head as Cas’s tongue peeks out between his lips while he frantically attempts to remove any offending lumps in the batter.

Again, not that Dean was looking at Cas’ mouth or anything.

Pouring the batter into the old, warped cupcake tin that Dean recovers from a cabinet is a different story. The concept of getting the mix only into the dips of the pan is something Cas is not grasping very well. Soon, the tin is filled with four overflowing molds, one with only a few drops, and the rest half full. Dean’s hands are coated in batter from his attempts to staunch the waterfall of batter while Cas is immaculately clean.

“How the hell did I end up covered?” Dean grumbles, attempting to use a clean part of his arm to wipe a glob of Funfetti batter off his eyebrow. Cas turns away from the oven and the asshole looks like he’s about to start _laughing_ at him. So, really, it’s not Dean’s fault that he reaches out and smears a batter-coated hand against Cas’ face. He was obviously asking for it. Cas’ face is so shocked at Dean’s actions that Dean is immediately bursting out into loud, resonant laughter. It’s only stopped when he feels a slide of of a plastic spoon across his arm.

Cas’ face is practically _devious_ as he wields the mixing spoon, dripping mix onto the floor and countertop. Dean should be mad, but instead he finds himself completely amused. So, he retaliates by smearing more batter on Cas’ chest. Cas fires back with a spoon to the ear. Dean shoves his finger in Cas’ ear for that. Cas rubs mix into Dean’s hair. The attack continues until there are no more puddles of batter on the counter or in the bowl, instead covering the hunter and his angel from the waist up. Dean is breathless, laughing harder than he has in a while. Cas is actually smiling and chuckling quietly, sliding down to sit next to Dean on the floor. It’s ridiculous; the whole scenario is playing out like a cheesy teen flick. This is probably why Dean isn’t surprised when Castiel reaches out one finger and wipes a glob of batter from Dean’s cheek, sticking it into his mouth with a ‘hmm’ . He actually ponders the flavor for a second before pulling his finger out through his mouth.

“It’s sweeter than white cake,” he supplies for Dean’s curious expression.

“I thought it was bad to consume raw egg, Emeril,” Dean quips. Castiel’s head tilts slightly.

“For humans. I’m not human,” he answers matter-of-factly.

Dean’s brain tries to think the thought out, but there’s a little part of him that just goes ‘ _fuck it, we’re doing it live_ ’, and Dean’s leaning in before he can stop himself.

“Either way, it’s my turn,” he says, but the words are muffled because he’s already got his mouth against Cas’ and he’s pretty sure he’s never letting go because this is in the top ten for best kisses ever. Hell, it’s probably in top _three_. And going by the enthusiasm he's getting in return from Cas, he's guessing the feeling is mutual. Except he does pull away eventually, but that’s only because the timer goes off. But once the cupcakes are safe, for lack of a better word, Cas pounces on Dean again like he's determined to clean him with just his _tongue_

Which Dean is _totally_ not complaining about.

For probably the first and last time in his life, Dean's pretty happy Sam didn't bring him pie.


End file.
